


The One

by scrapbullet



Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Comment Fic, Gen, Not Beta Read, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 11:14:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5664097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapbullet/pseuds/scrapbullet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The likelihood of meeting the other half of your soul is slim to none.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One

No soul is born alone; this is a universal truth. Whether that Bond be platonic or romantic matters little, only that there is one, or possibly more than, perfect match somewhere out in the big, wide world. All one must do is find them, and touch them, to know that they are part of a whole; to feel complete once more, as their Maker intended.

But, Coward knows, it’s never that easy.

The likelihood of meeting the other half of your soul is slim to none.

And yet, Coward goes to each and every society ball and party, desperately hoping that _today will be the day_. Mayhap, he thinks when he straightens his shirt sleeves, my One will be a woman of good breeding and incomparable wit. Or perhaps a man; of cunning and intelligence. The former would, of course, be more acceptable in these current times, but Coward only yearns for _someone._. Anyone.

It is to no avail. There is no quickening heartbeat or flash of static electricity when he shakes a gentleman’s hand, or kisses a ladies cheek. Even the dear spinster Mrs Vane has found her darling heart at last - though her other half if a fey young man in his twenties with a withering smile for all and sundry.

In his nightmares, there is no One for Coward at all.

And so, steeling his heart, he decides to wait no longer. _I shall live_ , he says to himself, _if it is to be, it will be, and if it is not, well, then I shall die alone and that is not quite so bad, really_.

Life goes on, and Coward becomes ensnared in politics. It is all quite dull, of course, but it is an adequate vocation that, eventually, allows him to join a few clubs of disrepute. It is here that he meets a man, who introduces him to another man, who, in turn, introduces him to another... And then, on his knees with knuckles scraped raw from one too many jaws, he is inducted into the Order.

Ah, and so it begins! 

Such adventure like nothing before! He does not need his One when he has this; the friendship of a bastard Lord so captivating that at times he cannot breathe. It is strange how Blackwood is loathe to remove his stylish leather gloves, yes, but every man is allowed their oddities.

(“I wish for no Bond,” Henry says one evening as they sit by the fire, brandy in hand. “I wish to be myself and myself alone, and to be remembered as more than just a single piece of a possible whole.”

Coward is silent. His chest aches in a way that forces him to clear his throat, tipping back the glass and enjoying the burn. They are opposites, they two, despite fitting so well together.

A shame Henry does not remove his gloves.)

Together, they weave their tale of blood and magic and death. Together, they get _so very close_.

And then it all falls apart.

It is Coward’s last wish on the day prior to his execution that he see Blackwood’s body. Even on ice there is the slight stench of rot in the air, and his head is twisted oddly thanks to the broken neck that killed him.

Coward touches cold skin, _knows,_ and despairs.

His One is dead, and it is too late, now. Far, far too late.


End file.
